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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091024">Tactical Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayzo/pseuds/Kayzo'>Kayzo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bond is a tease, Fluff, Get Together, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:09:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayzo/pseuds/Kayzo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spies are good at keeping secrets, obviously. But normally they don’t tell the person their keeping it from to their face that they’re keeping it... Q hates Bond sometimes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tactical Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bond walks up with a smirk and Q immediately feels threatened. Not in the banal, traditional sense that anyone with half a mind would feel when faced with someone of Bond’s caliber. Oh no, Q was feeling quite threatened with the knowledge that whatever Bond was coming to tell him would not be something he wants to hear. </p>
<p>“Q.” Bond inclines his head in some play at respect. </p>
<p>No use putting it off; “Out with it, Bond.”</p>
<p>He slowly lifts his head, a smirk and a raised eyebrow already firmly in place, “Now what have I done to offend you, dear Quartermaster?”</p>
<p>“Whatever it is you’re about to tell me.”</p>
<p>“Well then I just won’t tell you—can’t have you mad at me before a mission’s even started.” He turns and starts to saunter away. </p>
<p>“This tactic?” Q makes a gesture to all that Bond is, “Isn’t working.”</p>
<p>“We shall see.” Bond inclines his head again and leaves Q branch. </p>
<p>Q follows him with his eyes narrowed until he’s truly out of sight before turning back to his work. What was he doing again? God, Bond can be such a distraction, even when he does nothing more than stop by.</p>
<hr/>
<p>So the thing is, Q has seen Bond is many situations. In fancy galas, in back alleys, in casual dress and formal. Bond is a spy, he makes every environment his home, blending in seamlessly. </p>
<p>But not here. Here he sticks out like the sorest of thumbs. Because here is his <em>local Tesco</em> where he’s popping in to get some more tea, cat food, and if he’s feeling adventurous, some digestives. </p>
<p>Bond doesn’t see him first (terribly spy) but he is the one that walks over, basket in hand. There’s a pepper and some apples in the basket. It’s weirder somehow than Bond being in his local Tesco in the first place.</p>
<p>“Fancy seeing you here.” Bond says, dispensing with the title in public but understandably having nothing to fill the blank space of his name with. </p>
<p>“I find myself equally surprised.” Q drawls, suddenly self-conscious of his three boxes of tea for reasons that are absolutely ridiculous, surely. </p>
<p>Bond smirks and it’s a smidge closer to a smile than Q’s seen directed at him before—although that could do with the soft looking sweater Bond’s wearing that seem to soften his edges.</p>
<p>“Well, can I say it without you getting mad now?” Bond asks into the brightly lit space between them and Q feels ambushed. </p>
<p>He says, hesitantly; “I can’t promise I won’t be mad.”</p>
<p>“Alright.” Bond takes a step back and Q finds himself leaning into the vacated air, “I’ll leave you to your shopping then.” He turns and walks away again and Q is rooted to the spot. </p>
<p>What kind of weird game is Bond playing? Q wants to call out after him, to demand whatever it is that made Bond walk so confidently into Q branch a half week ago. Q would never admit it, but it’s been tapping away at the corners of his mind like a persistent itch. Whatever game he’s playing though, Q wont let him win.</p>
<hr/>
<p>So Q is absolutely dying to know. </p>
<p>Of course Bond would be good at keeping things hidden and secret, he’s a bloody spy, but he’s never so blatantly kept something from Q before, and generally Q can figure out what he wants easy enough. But this isn’t case related, far as he can tell, and it would be a bit preemptive to be asking for extra treats on his next mission. He’s been thinking about it since their last meeting, and it’s more annoying than the man himself.</p>
<p>Q might have to let Bond win.</p>
<p>So Q does something he didn’t think he’d ever do. He goes to the MI6 gym where all the people paid to be in shape work out like it’s their job. Which, technically… </p>
<p>God, of course Bond is shirtless, doing pull ups like he’s god’s gift to earth, looking fit as hell with the sheen of sweat that comes from hard work. </p>
<p>Q walks over and clears his throat, giving Bond an alert to his presence that the man certainly doesn’t need. Bond does three more pull ups before dropping down from the bar and into the space next to Q. </p>
<p>Damn it, the man even smells nice when sweaty. That’s just unfair.</p>
<p>“Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.” Q says and tries not to make it sound like he’s begging for cognitive closure. </p>
<p>Bond looks smug, of course he does, and takes a towel to the back of his neck, “Do you promise to say yes?”</p>
<p>Q notices a bead of sweat making its way down Bond’s chest because he is paid to be observant, “Say yes..?” Q does not physically shake his head to clear his thoughts but it’s close, “No, of course not!” He crosses his arms.<br/>Bond shrugs. Q never thought of the act of shrugging as sexual before this moment. </p>
<p>“Then I’ll see you around, dear Quartermaster.”</p>
<p>And he has the gaul to walk away.</p>
<hr/>
<p>So Q thought this was getting to him before? That was nothing. Now it was something of an active obsession. What in the world could Bond want to ask that he was requiring Q to say ‘yes’ to? It wasn’t gadgets—Bond had shamelessly requested a laser pointer with actual usable lasers just yesterday with no subterfuge. And it wasn’t time-bound, or he wouldn’t be so unconcerned with Q’s reluctance to give in to Bond’s ludicrous demands. </p>
<p>It was even starting to affect his sleep! Just last night he dreamt of their encounter in the grocery store—except this time Bond had been wearing what he had been at the gym, minds are just crazy and inexplicable like that—and just when his dream self was about to learn the secrets of the universe through Bond’s lips, Nikola had jumped on his stomach and woke him abruptly with a meow to the face. </p>
<p>So he was tired and quickly veering towards wired if he had any more coffee (the vice of those without adequate sleep) when Bond again comes into Q branch, looking calm and collected and unbothered. Which of course makes Q very Bothered. </p>
<p>“007, my office if you would.” Q says across the five desks between them and walks determinedly to his office from the center podium he prefers. Bond enters a moment later, closing the door softly behind him, that infuriating little smile on his face. </p>
<p>“Yes Q?”</p>
<p>Q closes his eyes for a moment and rubs his temple, “Alright, I give up, out with it.” He looks at Bond and almost makes a physical grabbing motion. </p>
<p>“Oh?” Bond leans against the door, “And do you promise not to be mad?”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes.” Q motions for Bond to get on with it already.</p>
<p>“And you promise to say yes?”</p>
<p>Q bites his lip for a moment, “fine, I do.”</p>
<p>Bond smiles wide before taking a step closer, “May I take you to dinner, dear Quartermaster?”</p>
<p>Q’s jaw goes slack, “You’re Satan.” It comes out as the incredulous exclamation it is. </p>
<p>“Remember, you promised to say yes.” Bond teases, leaning just a bit closer. </p>
<p>Q huffs and ignores his reddened cheeks, “7 tonight, and nothing too fancy, I’m not changing.”</p>
<p>“As you wish.” Bond takes a step back and inclines his head in deference and it only makes Q blush harder. He turns to go. </p>
<p>“Oh for fucks sake,” Q exclaims and Bond turns back only to be pulled into an absolutely filthy kiss, if Q says so himself. They part and Q is quite satisfied with the bits of surprise peppering Bond’s face. </p>
<p>“Don’t be late.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t dream of it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Hope it offered something in these trying times.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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